The Curse of the Black Pearl
by deadwoodpecker
Summary: Astoria Greengrass is afflicted with a curse that could damn her marriage to Draco to be cold and without pleasure. Narcissa Malfoy is prepared to help.


narcissa/astoria

It stormed over most of Britain the day Narcissa learned of Astoria's curse – her _other _curse. It made a splattering sound against the stone walls of Malfoy Manor and the howls of the wind were louder than the low cries from the white and crimson peacocks. Narcissa could _hear _the storm perfectly well, but the enchantments that protected the courtyard from the elements didn't allow a single raindrop inside. It was warm, cozy even, and Narcissa allowed herself a moment of contentment.

An owl chose that moment to arrow in; water sluiced from its wings and dripped cold water onto Narcissa. It dropped a copy of _The Daily Prophet_ onto her lap and then waited, head cocked and wings pumping, for her to pay it.

"Oh – Narcissa, I'll pay for it," said Astoria.

Had it been Pansy Parkinson or even _Daphne _Greengrass Draco had chosen to affiance himself to, this would have been said with smug pride. Everyone knew that Lucius Malfoy, and therefore his wife and son, had had to pay a hippogryff's weight in gold in order to remain out of Azkaban. Astoria was bringing a healthy sum of galleons with her, and it was her generosity that allowed the Malfoys to resume their subscription to their world's most prestigious newspaper.

Still, Narcissa felt a pang to watch her future daughter-in-law give the owl his knuts. She shoved that petty emotion aside, though, and murmured a word of thanks.

Harry Potter was on the front cover. And involuntary stab of annoyance had Narcissa rolling her eyes. It seemed _The Daily Prophet _had to mention the boy nearly every day and twice on Sundays. Though, she had to admit, this time they had cause. **HARRY AND GINNY POTTER WELCOME BABY BOY**, read the headline. Her eyes flew down the page: they'd named it James Sirius.

"Bad news?" Astoria asked with warm sympathy.

"No," said Narcissa. The word came out abruptly. Then, gentler: "No, not bad news. Potter has had a son. They've named it after his father and Sirius Black. My cousin." Conflict welled inside her. Her cousin, dead by her sister's hand. Her sister, dead. Her other sister… just as lost to her. She shouldn't _feel _this much resentment that Sirius, troublesome and annoying as he'd been, set against his own _family_ and proud of it, had had the world's most famous baby take his name. No one would name their child after Bellatrix. _And no one should_, Narcissa reminded herself.

"Potter had a son?"

There was a note in Astoria's voice that caught Narcissa's attention. The dark path her thoughts had been traveling down shifted and Narcissa glanced at the other woman, sharp and alert. Astoria gave no sign of discomfort. Her hair fell over her face, the blond strands nearly white in the weak light. Draco's chosen bride was softer than the other young women of similar standing. Her nose came to a small point and there was a wide, almost feline cant to her blue eyes, and she looked in every way a pureblood young witch. Except that there was a roundness to her shoulders and a sweetness in the way she held her body. Narcissa would not admit aloud to her husband that she approved of this woman for her son.

"Yes," said Narcissa. "Privately. At home." There was a secondary headline tucked at the bottom of the page. "Rita Skeeter is speculating it's not truly a Potter, but a snake in a griffin's nest. Does she suspect Draco, do you think?"

It was intended to be a small bit of humor. But the cerulean eyes took on a shimmer and the small, pointed chin quivered.

"Oh, my dear," Narcissa said. She leaned forward. An instinct prodded her to take Astoria's hand, so she reached out and took warm, slim fingers into her own. "It isn't true. Nearly everything Rita Skeeter prints is a lie."

"It isn't that," Astoria whispered. "I… want Draco to have a child. I want him to be a father." A shoulder lifted in a shrug.

Narcissa kept Astoria's hand in her own but leaned back into the chair. The wind continued to howl and the thunder rolled hard enough Narcissa felt the tremble under her feet. But the courtyard was a protected, enchanted place. For an instant, Narcissa felt like if she broached the subject of Astoria's curse, if the question she wanted to ask tumbled out of her mouth, the enchantments that kept the storm from intruding on Malfoy Manor would tumble down. And then the rain would come.

Narcissa took a deep breath in, then she sighed out her fear. Bellatrix had often made her think such things, and Narcissa couldn't always set her childhood aside.

"Is it… your curse?" Narcissa asked. "Is it…?" The curse would kill Astoria eventually; the potions she was given once or twice a month would not last forever. After a certain stage, Astoria would not be able to carry a child; Narcissa had never asked precisely which stage of the curse Astoria was in.

"It's still held at bay," Astoria said. Her hand came up to tug on a strand of her hair. It was a child's gesture and it made the ring on her finger look larger, as though Astoria were a child playing with Mummy's dress robes. "It's not that… it's not that curse, at least. I just…"

"Just what?" Narcissa pressed. There was no answer for a long moment. Roses bloomed on Astoria's cheeks and her teeth worried at her bottom lip.

"During the… troubles my fifth year, I was cursed," Astoria said. She gave Narcissa a fleeting look, straightened her shoulders, and the child in her was replaced by the woman. A witch of twenty. "It… I don't _feel _anything there." The roses blossomed further.

Narcissa blinked, not understanding.

"I feel _something_, but after that curse I… I couldn't – I can't…" The words tumbled out of Astoria as Narcissa watched. "I don't know how much I'll enjoy sharing Draco's bed," she said finally. "When we finally do."

Narcissa stared at the witch. There was true misery in her eyes. Comprehension came to Narcissa in a long, slow wave: Astoria had been cursed (particularly cruel given the curse she was born with) to not have feeling there, sexually, and worried what that meant for her marriage to Draco. The girl's mother was dead, so who else could she tell? Who else could she burden with this knowledge aside from Narcissa? Warm concern grew inside her, matching the warmth and concern Astoria had always shown _Narcissa_. What a terrible thing to have faced alone!

"Since your fifth year?" Narcissa asked. She spoke in a whisper, knowing this conversation needed to be private. "And you can't…" She tripped over the word _masturbate_ – it was not a word she'd ever said out loud before. Instead, she pulled her hand out of Astoria's and gave her fingers a deliberate twitch.

"No," Astoria said miserably. "I did before the curse. I – I couldn't help it," she said. "But after it, even if I tried, I just couldn't… get there. I couldn't do it anymore." With her nearly white hair and crimson cheeks, she looked like the Malfoy flock of peacocks. Unbidden, an image of her blossomed in Narcissa's mind: pale hair spread out on a pillow, hands under the covers, and a similar flush on her cheeks. "No matter what, I can't…"

_Orgasm_, Narcissa thought. She took Astoria's hand again; the vision in her head slowly wafted away. "I understand. Draco doesn't… he can't…?"

"No," Astoria said. "We haven't… we've only kissed." A bitter little laugh escaped her. "He's wanted to… do things for me, but it _can't be done_." The tears that had been threatening finally spilled over her cheeks.

Narcissa looked over her shoulder, then stood and gathered Astoria up in her arms. It was easy to do – Astoria was small, dainty even, and stood at a height just below Narcissa's clavicle. They had never embraced like this; Narcissa had never been demonstrative, even with Draco, but it felt right now. In this moment, she needed to hold her son's affianced bride, who was burdened terribly. _Even more burdened than Draco_, Narcissa thought.

"I don't want him to know," Astoria murmured. Her head lay on Narcissa's breast. "I fear how angry he would be."

"Not with _you_," Narcissa said quickly, sharply.

"No, not with me," said Astoria. There was violence and darkness in Draco's past. The knowledge of that hung between them; Narcissa felt the tension of that come between them.

A secret was born at that moment. Astoria pulled away a little. Her cerulean eyes were wide and rimmed with red, and the secret became a charm between them. _Will you keep it a secret? _she seemed to ask. _I will_, Narcissa said in silent reply. _And I'll help you_, she added.

"A curse can be broken," said Narcissa. She tucked a strand of pale yellow hair around Astoria's ear.

"Not in my experience," Astoria said sadly.

Narcissa held her. Her hand moved into her hair of its own accord, pale strands twined around her fingers. She was no stranger to curses – giving and receiving. But this one was nastier and reminded her of – _No, Cissy, don't think of that_. Narcissa forced that thought away, buried it deep, kept it hidden where even Bellatrix – should she return from her death – couldn't find it. Instead, she listened to the rain. A few deep breaths steadied her. Astoria wore a subtle scent; Narcissa couldn't pinpoint what it was. A minute was spent attempting to place it, and all that while, Narcissa held her.

"I'll help you," Narcissa said.

HPHPHPHPHPHPHP

It was easier said than done.

Discovering which curse it was did not pose a problem. Several years ago, Arthur Weasley had led the Ministry charge to scour her family home from top to bottom, but he could not get away with taking away their library. It was quite a large room, the grandest in the house, and had shelves from floor to ceiling with a priceless collection of knowledge of the Dark Arts.

She did not head directly toward the books. The library had two guardians: gargoyles. They were handsome creatures of stone, proportioned as fit men with heavy brows and broad chests. They could have been wizards, even, but for the tiny horns and the wings protruding from their backs. Draco's fear of them as a child had been strong to the point of absurdity, but they were not violent defenders. They were librarians.

Narcissa marched to the one on the right, her heels clacking against the wooden floor, and came to a sharp stop in front of the statue. When her wand tapped the end of its nose, it blinked its white eyes open. "Attend me," she said, giving it another sharp rap.

Its wings unfurled. "Mistress," it rumbled. "What would you have me seek?"

"I need information on curses of a sexual nature," Narcissa told him. "Limit your findings to only that which affects witches."

"As you desire," said the gargoyle. It bowed with a crunching, grounding sound, then turned and launched itself away from her.

Narcissa took a moment to watch it leap and bound and come back to the ground with huge, echoing thumps. Arthur Weasley had wanted to confiscate the Malfoy gargoyles, ever suspicious that he was missing a dark enchantment. But no, as far as Narcissa knew – and about her husband and husband's family, she knew quite a lot – the gargoyles were librarians only. There had been part of her that had wanted it to be different, wanted to see that blood traitor's eyes widen with shock and fright; instead, she'd held her tongue and kept her head down.

There were very few things Narcissa could change about her family's situation. She'd had no control of Weasley. They were two breaths away from Azkaban as it was.

But this. This situation with Astoria? Narcissa could seek to change it. She could try to _break _a curse, after all.

She turned on her heel and made her way to a cluster of tables and chairs. The great fireplace was lit and she had just taken a seat when the first of the books appeared on the table before her. It was slim and read and titled _Thrice-Cursed Madalay Peverell_. Before she even opened it, Narcissa knew it wasn't what she was looking for. But the pages fell open and she read a section anyway:

_Her legs were open and her center dripped with witch's honey. "My lord, I've been cursed!" she sobbed. "Only _your _wand can break the curse!" _

_But he held himself back from her. She was beautiful enough: glossy dark curls framed a pale face. Wide eyes begged for his mercy. His gaze fell on her bosom: it heaved as though he touched them, and their tips tightened into hard points. And, further down, she was so glossy and swollen, flushed and ready. His hand went to his robes and unfastened them. _

Narcissa shut the book and pushed it away from her. These types of volumes had been popular when she'd been at Hogwarts. Mirabai Merrythought had brought new stories after ever school holiday, and they'd devour them in the privacy of their Slytherin dorm room. She wondered if they were still popular, if Astoria had read these and that's why she couldn't help but touch herself. It was a shockingly intimate thing to have been told, and Narcissa kept lingering over it.

Her thoughts were interrupted by another offering from the gargoyle. This one was as large as the table it appeared on. Narcissa opened it and found it full of etchings. An artist, or several of them, had compiled depictions of cursed witches, their legs open wide. Narcissa flipped through it: a tentacle emerged from a vagina on one page, a thick forest of trees in place of pubic hair on another, and a snapping set of teeth growing out of the labia on a third. Narcissa flipped that one quickly, and the scent of cayenne pepper wafted up. _Genitalia cursed to smell of strong spice_, it read along the outer edge of the etching.

Narcissa shut this book too, and hefted it off the table. This was hardly informative as it was perverse. It was compiled to captivate the senses of whoever looked on it. Why else would Narcissa have smelled cayenne pepper coming from a vulva that was otherwise perfectly normal?

She found the answer in the third book the gargoyle sent to her. Her heart had stuttered quicker when she flipped to the table of contents and found a concise list of curses – and, more importantly, their counter-curses. They were helpfully grouped in categories. Narcissa trailed her finger down the page, reading quickly, until she finally came to a section labeled "pleasure". Ignoring the curses that made witches insatiable, she found the section she needed and flipped to it.

An hour later, she was roaming the quiet halls of Malfoy Manor in search of Astoria. Her heart was racing a little, and by the time she finally walked under a stone arch and found Astoria, her body was tight with nerves.

"Oh, _there _you are, Narcissa," Astoria said. She flew toward her. "I've been looking for you, I need to apologize, I should have asked you to—"

"I've found it," Narcissa said flatly, interrupting her. "You have a couple of options."

Blue eyes were very wide. "Options? What?" Long pale hair swayed around her robes as she shook her head. "Narcissa, I didn't want you to have to worry… not about me… I can…"

"You should not have to live with this," Narcissa said. There was heat in her at the idea of this woman living with this curse the rest of her life. The heat frightened her a little, so she forced ice into her tone. "No one should. It's sick someone did this to you. As I said, you have several options to break it. They can do it for you at St. Mungo's—"

"No!" Astoria broke out, shocked. "I would not trust a healer at St. Mungo's with this. They would tell! Oh, Narcissa, I can't—"

"You can also tell Draco, and he can help you," Narcissa cut in smoothly. Astoria looked even more frightened at this. Narcissa couldn't blame her.

"You know what he would do," Astoria said. Her lips, usually quite generous, pressed together until they nearly disappeared. "He's gotten away from – from all that. But this would rile him."

"Yes, it would," Narcissa said. She leaned back, resting all her weight on her heels. This was a moment of conflict – it already was so for Narcissa, and it would be for Astoria. The breaking of this particular curse ought to be done by a lover; Narcissa had known that the moment she'd read it. Nerves fizzed in her stomach. There seemed to be only one way, so Narcissa breathed in a deep breath and said: "I can help you, Astoria. I can help you with this."

"Oh, _would_ you?" Astoria cried. "That would be marvelous. Marvelous."

"You may not want me to once you hear what it entails," said Narcissa. Then she told her. Not one single detail did Narcissa hold back. By the time she was done, Astoria was silent and white. Her lips were no longer compressed, but parted in shock. "This is your choice, Astoria," Narcissa said finally, gently. "I can help you, but if you wish to seek another path, I will not be insulted. But I would do this for you."

"For me," Astoria said in a whisper. A flush spread over her cheeks. "I don't know if I… are you honest with me? You're willing to do this? For me?"

_For Draco_, thought Narcissa. _For the Malfoy line_. _For the possibility of a grandchild. _All those reasons crowded into her mind and made it possible to ignore the fact that it was not just _nerves _sizzling through Narcissa. It was not just that that made her heart race and gave her a tremor in her fingers. There was _excitement _there as well, tangled with her sense of family honor.

"I am willing to do this," said Narcissa.

"Then I will ask it of you," said Astoria. "If it can be done…"

She looked so uncertain that her curse could be broken that Narcissa wanted to say something to soothe her. Instead, Narcissa squared her shoulders and tilted her chin upward. "I believe I can manage it," Narcissa said, reaching for her customary cool and finding it. "But first, I need to run an errand in Jennit Alley."

Astoria flushed even rosier. "You'll need money? For it?"

Narcissa nodded. When Astoria had handed over the galleons, Narcissa tucked them into her pocket. "What is your availability over the next few days?" she asked. "Can you agree to an impromptu shopping trip with your future mother-in-law?"

"Shopping trip?" Astoria said dazedly.

"I don't think we ought to stay here as we break your curse," said Narcissa. "We will need to find an inn."

Astoria twisted her hands in front of her. Silence settled over them so long Narcissa wondered if the younger witch had changed her mind. "My grandmother left me that little cottage," she said, tentative. "Would that be sufficient? Or does it have to be an inn?"

"Anywhere we can be private is sufficient," said Narcissa. "I will go run my errand and then we can adjourn to the private cottage." She could not help but think, privately, that Astoria was quite lucky to have the wealth she did.

And the Malfoys were going to be even luckier when that wealth was merged with their meager finances.

"I'll tell Draco – something," said Astoria.

"Shopping trip," Narcissa reminded her. "A shopping trip. With me."

"Yes, yes," said Astoria. "A shopping trip."

Narcissa left her then, to do her own shopping. It wouldn't do for anyone to recognize her. The speculation would be rampant, and then it would be the Malfoys in _The Daily Prophet _instead of the Potters. So she was careful to transfigure her features: her nose turned into a button, her hair was pulled back, and her chin made rounder. The width of her eyes narrowed, and by the time Narcissa was finished, she hardly recognized herself.

No one recognized her when she Apparated to the pleasant park area that served as a little niche between Carn Alley and Jennit Alley. Rowdy wizards, probably just graduated from Hogwarts, had their arms wrapped around each other and were singing a ribald song as they walked toward Carn Alley. Narcissa was grateful not to have to follow them. Instead, she turned to the quieter, more secretive entrance to her right. It was a little slit in the wall and there was darkness beyond it. Fragrant flowers grew out of the moss that surrounded the slit, and Narcissa took a moment to breath it in.

_I can do this_, she told herself. _I can help Astoria_.

HPHPHPHPHPHPHP

The cottage that Astoria's grandmother had gifted her was a tiny thing. It could fit in the library of Malfoy Manor, and had none of the grandeur. It did have a private sort of elegance that Narcissa could not help but note. The rain was allowed to fall on it, and the whole structure was surrounded in a mist that made it appear quite mysterious. Ivy climbed the walls and clumps of roses grew under the windows.

"It's lovely, isn't it?" Astoria said.

Narcissa's heart was racing again and that made it difficult to speak. It seemed impossible they were really going to do this. "Yes," she murmured belatedly. "It is quite lovely." She watched as Astoria traced a sigil over the door with her wand. It sprung open, allowing them entry. Narcissa allowed Astoria to gesture her inside first, then – nerves leaping into her throat – she looked around the tiny sitting room. Her eyes moved over the small sofa, over the fireplace and the logs beside it, and the table full of ornaments. She could feel Astoria beside her. _She must be blushing_, Narcissa thought. There was heat coming off the other witch's body.

A flick of a wand, and a fire sprang up in the fireplace.

Narcissa's eyebrows flew upward and she turned to Astoria, gesturing toward the sofa. "Did you want to do this _here_?"

"Oh… no, I thought the bedroom," said Astoria. But then she sat down on one of the stuffed armchairs and looked at Narcissa. "I think I need a moment."

"Oh, yes," said Narcissa. "Yes. Quite."

She too sat down. Well, perched. She perched on the end of the sofa and stared into the fire. It swelled in her, the knowledge of what they were about to do. It was as though the nerves she'd seen in Astoria's eyes had made the leap to Narcissa, and she was now burdened with both.

"Have you ever…?"

It was a soft question. Had it come from anyone else in any other situation Narcissa would have snapped at them for their impertinence. But there was a liquid desperation in Astoria's voice. Narcissa considered what to tell her. "I have… somewhat," she said, fiddling with the fabric of her robes. There had been an evening in Narcissa's life during which she and one of her dormmates had explored each other's bodies. Narcissa remembered it well – the dormmate not at all. There had been no reason to leave the other witch with that memory.

"What does 'somewhat' mean?" Astoria asked.

Narcissa breathed in deeply. "When I was a girl there was a rather improper set of books that all of us would read. It _stirred _us. One night, one of my friends sat up in my bed and read the books together." Both of them had become aroused; Narcissa had looked down once to see her dormmate's hand in her lap, rubbing herself between her legs in rhythmic motions Narcissa knew quite well. Eyes caught, she'd been unable to look away. "I ended up touching her, and she touched me." This story had not even been told to Lucius.

"So you won't _hate _it?" Astoria burst out. "Will you _hate _me when this is done?"

"No!" Narcissa said, shocked. She blinked her eyes several times. "Of course not. Why ever would you think that?"

"We don't – you don't – this isn't love," said Astoria. Her shoulder lifted in a shrug. "Breaking my curse is forcing you to—"

"I am not being forced," said Narcissa. "There are few people who can _force _me to do something I do not want to do. You are not one of them." Sudden impatience bolted through her. "Astoria, do you wish _me _to help _you_? You may change your mind at any moment. I will not hold it against you."

"I need you to do this," Astoria said, suddenly tearful. "I simply don't… want to lose your regard."

"You will not," said Narcissa. She stood and held out her hand. "Come, Astoria. Let us begin. We only have a few days of privacy."

She had never been to this cottage before, but she was the one who led Astoria down the hall to the bedroom. The witch's fingers trembled in her hand and Narcissa made a silent promise that she would made the following hours as easy for her as possible. She was thoughtful of this as she lit the lamp, giving it a muted glow that spread over the rose comforter. Astoria needed to be as relaxed as possible, otherwise it might take more time than they truly had to break her curse.

"Do you want a bath?" Narcissa asked.

"A bath?" Astoria said, as though she'd never heard of such a thing.

"Yes," said Narcissa. "It might help you relax."

Astoria looked at her. Her cheeks still had roses in them, but there was a stubborn strength in the tilt of her head. "I don't… I promise, Narcissa. I'm a little nervous, but now I know you won't hate me—"

"I will not hate you," Narcissa confirmed.

"—then I can do this," said Astoria. Then with swift, efficient movements, she undid the fastenings on her robes. They draped open for a moment, then fell to the floor.

_She's quite lovely,_ Narcissa thought. Astoria did not wear a bra, and her breasts were carried high. Nipples the color of spring roses pointed upward, soft and puffy. Her gaze drifted downward, to the slim waist and delicate navel. It wasn't totally necessary that Astoria be fully naked, but Narcissa did not want to cause the younger witch any more embarrassment than she was already feeling. It seemed to take a great deal of courage for her to disrobe… Narcissa did not want to spoil it.

Astoria's underwear drifted to the floor. Narcissa caught a glimpse of a small mound of curls. They were shades darker than the hair on her head, but had that silky look, like they'd be soft to the touch. Narcissa pulled her gaze away and gave Astoria a gentle nudge. "You will be more comfortable on the bed," she said.

"Yes," Astoria said.

Narcissa had not brought out the tiny instrument she had bought in the particularly secretive shop in Jennit Alley. She kept it in her pocket until Astoria lay across the bed, then she brought it out and eyed it critically. It was silvery and ornate looking, with runes carved up and down it. Narcissa tapped it with her wand and watched as the runes lit silver. The end of it – the part that looked a bit like a small, folded cup – straightened and unfurled.

"You will need to spread your legs," Narcissa said quietly.

Astoria obeyed. Even with her legs widened, her private folds were tightly closed, revealing only a hint of pink. Narcissa knelt down on the ground beside the bed and pursed her lips. If she touched those folds, if she stroked them, would they flower open for her? Or would the curse prevent even that? She felt a flush rise on her cheeks at the thought.

"I need you to open yourself for me," Narcissa said instead.

Astoria squirmed about on the bed. Slim fingers parted herself, and Narcissa had a sudden, clear view of all her secret places. It was pale with just a hint of rosiness – so pale that Narcissa suspected it was the curse at work, and it was confirmed when her gaze traveled upward to the apex, where Astoria's little pearl should be located. Instead, it was a white patch of skin marked by a tiny, black spiral.

"Does it look…?"

"You would not have been able to hide this from Draco," Narcissa informed her, hoping she was correctly interpreting Astoria's unfinished question. "Are you ready, Astoria?"

There was a long pause. Then, in a thick voice, Astoria said: "Yes. I'm ready."

Careful not to touch her more than she had to, Narcissa placed the small cup over the little spiral where Astoria's pearl should be. There was a small whooshing sound and Astoria tensed and sat up.

"Oh!" Astoria said. "That felt… odd."

Narcissa nodded. "I expect it would." Their eyes met and Narcissa felt an odd thrill that arced straight to her nipples and down to her own, uncursed pearl. "I will keep going until you tell me to stop."

At the other woman's nod, Narcissa gently nudged the instrument with her wand. There was no way she could sense what Astoria was, but by the way the muscles tensed in her smooth thighs told Narcissa that _something _was happening. There was quiet from the other witch, but her body spoke to Narcissa. Whatever was happening bordered on pain, and that would not do.

"Tell me," Narcissa said, smoothing the edges of her tone with a casualness she didn't feel. "Tell me, Astoria… you implied you have felt desire before. What stirs you?"

Astoria squirmed again. "I… suppose the normal desires," she said.

The question did not distract her as much as Narcissa had hoped, and Narcissa was hard-pressed to think of another question. It was another minute before the instrument withdrew from Astoria's tender flesh and returned to a quiescent state.

"You… asked me what I desired?" Astoria asked. She sat up, resting on her elbows.

"I wanted you to relax," said Narcissa. "My instinct for this kind of thing tells me that the more relaxed you are the easier and swifter this curse will break." When Astoria still looked befuddled, Narcissa reached out and stroked her folds. "Not every witch is the same, but even without touch, I could think about something that filled me with desire. It would stir me. If you could think of something to stir yourself…" Unbidden by her, her hand continued to stroke Astoria.

Astoria swallowed. "I can try," she said.

Narcissa pulled her hand away. "We'll use the instrument again in an hour."

Astoria closed her legs with a snap and then scooted off the bed at speed, grabbed her robes, and disappeared into the bathroom. Narcissa decided the witch needed a bit of privacy and left to make a cup of tea for herself. She thought this would server to quiet some of the heat she felt, but as she sat in the tiny kitchen at the cottage, her internal eye kept dwelling on Astoria's pale flesh. It was almost a relief when the hour was up and it was once more time to use the instrument.

"Oh!" said Astoria, when the instrument touched her once more. "It feels different…"

"How so?" Narcissa asked, curious.

"Last time, it just felt like something was pulling at it," said Astoria. "But now it feels… different."

Her flesh was not quite as pale as last time. Narcissa wondered if the bath had helped. Once again, her hand came up to stroke Astoria. Was that a hint of moisture as a small sign of desire? Or had the bathwater not been fully patted away? "Have you thought about what you desire?" Narcissa asked.

"I'm trying," said Astoria.

When the instrument dropped away, done with its coaxing for the moment, Narcissa rested her hand on Astoria's thigh. Was it her imagination, or did the black spiral look slightly rosier? Without taking her eyes off it, Narcissa said: "When I was younger, I felt like I fairly burned with fantasies."

"I used to," Astoria said. "It used to feel so good." A flush spread over her cheeks. "I hardly wanted to get out of bed on Saturdays. I exaggerate, perhaps, but it felt so good." Narcissa wondered if it truly was an exaggeration. It could be; Astoria might be exaggerating how much she missed giving herself pleasure, but she might not be. Narcissa remembered well those heady moments of early exploration.

Narcissa gently tapped the black spiral. "Did you just touch your pearl, or did you ever touch inside?" she asked.

"A little of both," said Astoria. "Why do you call it a pearl?"

Narcissa shrugged. "It's what it was called in the books that we would pass around in the dormitories. I never had a name for it before." Then a thought struck her and she gave Astoria a mischievous look. "Thought it is a particularly apt name for yours. We've just got to crack the shell open before we can get to it."

"Is that what this curse is?" Astoria said. There was a lightness in her blue eyes that made Narcissa's fingers tremble. "It's a shell around my – my pearl?"

"You can envision it that way," Narcissa told her. "It couldn't hurt."

This time, during the hour break, they spent it in the sitting room. The silence between them was companionable, as though Narcissa's uncharacteristic levity had broken some of the tension between them. Her eyes often strayed to Astoria; even the lines of her body seemed less afraid and more content. Astoria still looked youthful, and it was quite easy to imagine her on her bed, frolicking, touching herself, and giving herself pleasure. It heated Narcissa to think of it, and to remember her own youth. And it was with a certain amount of eagerness that she announced that an hour had passed and they needed to go back to the bedroom.

Astoria displayed no nerves as she disrobed and settled on the bed. Her legs opened, and she spread herself to Narcissa's touch. _The instrument's touch_, Narcissa reminded herself. But she didn't hurry it out, instead, she caressed Astoria's thighs. "Remember to think of something that arouses you," Narcissa murmured. "Or at least _used _to arouse you."

"I'll try," promised Astoria.

During that session, Narcissa felt particularly proud of the moment that she smelled a delicate scent she hadn't before. There was moisture on Astoria's inner folds and they were rosy and plump. Astoria was blossoming with arousal.

"What are you thinking about?" Narcissa asked.

There was a long pause. "I'm not," said Astoria. "I'm not thinking. Just feeling."

Telling herself it was part of breaking the curse, Narcissa spread the moisture around, rubbing, stroking, watching as more wetness appeared. Astoria was responding to her, and when the instrument fell away, the black spiral was blurred and smudged. Narcissa squinted at it. Did she see a tiny bump? Could it be that it would emerge so soon from its cursed shell? A shiver went through her.

"It's working!" Narcissa said, finally looking up. "It truly is."

"I had every faith in you," said Astoria. There was a sleepy smile on her face, and Narcissa realized with a start how late it was.

"We can resume in the morning," said Narcissa.

"Oh," said Astoria. "Will you…?" She gestured toward the bed. "You can stay with me if you want."

Narcissa felt a hot spike of temptation. She doused it with cool reason. "I intend to sleep on the couch," she said. Astoria was still splayed out on the bed, legs open, and flushed with an arousal she couldn't yet slake. It was a beautiful, private image and cool reason nearly lost the battle.

"Good night," she said, hurrying away.

Narcissa's dreams that night were as tangled as the blankets on the sofa. There was a wakefulness to them that surprised her; she was aware of the placement of her body against the cushions. They pressed against her hips and the tight points of her nipples. Through her thin nightgown, the coarse fabric stimulated them. As aware as she was of her body, however, her mind had flown back to past, and it was a sixteen-year-old Narcissa's body that writhed with need.

_Mirabeau was staring at her. _

_Narcissa's hips moved. There was something about these stories that made Narcissa want to move. Her body felt heavy, languid, but there was a restlessness…_

"_Are you all right?" Mirabeau asked in a whisper. The other girls in the dorm were fast asleep – and there were privacy charms around the bed, besides, they hadn't wanted to wake the others by giggling over the sexiness in the books Mirabeau brought from home. Still, Mirabeau whispered. _

"_I feel strange," Narcissa admitted. They had just been taking turns reading a story in which a middle-aged wizard used Polyjuice potion to transform into his younger self and seduce a young witch just graduated from Hogwarts. This was the story that had made her restless… the words had evoked strange images in her mind, and it was these that made her restless. _

"_Narcissa," Mirabeau breathed. She had scooted closer while Narcissa was distracted. Her breath was warm against the skin of her neck, but Narcissa shivered. _

"_Mirabeau?" Narcissa asked, uncertain. Her eyes caught on Mirabeau's and she gasped at the reflection she saw there. It was Narcissa, as beautiful as the young maiden witch in the story, and just as desired. The restlessness turned into a fever as she saw herself in Mirabeau's eyes. A hand crept up to cup her knee, to move up her thigh, to trace over her belly. By the time Mirabeau cupped her breast, Narcissa was panting. _

"_I can do something for you," said Mirabeau._

_Except it was no longer Mirabeau. It was Astoria. She was splendid and naked and as lovely as Narcissa had once been. The dark eyes had transformed into the familiar cerulean, but Narcissa gasped when she saw her reflection in those liquid eyes. It was Narcissa, just as lovely as she'd been in her youth. _

_Narcissa took Astoria's hand and dragged it off her breast and down between her legs. "Oh, yes," she told Astoria. "Oh, yes, you can do something for me. I need you." _

"_Oh, look," Astoria said, as Narcissa writhed against her gentle touch. "Look what I've found, Narcissa… it's your pearl…"_

Narcissa woke with her own hand between her legs, her thumb strumming against the part of her that ached with need. She jerked upward. The dormitory of her dream disappeared and she was left blinking in pale grey light in a room she didn't recognize. Panic filtered through her and she sat up so fast she got dizzy. It took three deep breaths to recognize Astoria's grandmother's cottage as the sanctuary they'd chosen. The private place they needed…

She stood in the center of the sitting room, wondering why her fire had gone out, when Astoria's gentle voice floated over to her.

"Narcissa? Are you awake?"

Her body responded as soon as Astoria spoke. By the time Astoria finished her question, Narcissa stood in the doorway. The younger witch was perched on her side; the rosy comforter clung to her, revealing her curves and shadows.

"Are you ready to begin?" Narcissa asked.

"I was hoping you'd feed me, first," Astoria said. There was heat in her smile. Then she rose from the bed, perfectly naked, and reached for a silky white wrap.

Narcissa barely managed to eat. It was Astoria, in fact, who prepared the meal with a few raw ingredients and even fewer twirls of her wand. She hummed as she did so. It smelled delicious, but Narcissa was much too eager to settle back between Astoria's thighs and get back to breaking the curse.

So focused was she on that that she choked on her toast when Astoria asked her a question.

"Pardon?" she said, eyes watering.

"I asked what it was like, being in bed with another woman," Astoria said. There was a demure little smile playing across her lips. Narcissa searched for the reflection in her eyes, but found only brightness.

"It was a long time ago," Narcissa said, sighing. "It was at school…"

"Did you like it?" Astoria pressed.

_Everyone likes an orgasm_, Narcissa thought. That was what Mirabai had done for her: given Narcissa her first orgasm. Her slim fingers had been so gentle on the parts of Narcissa that had never been explored. Her restlessness had been eased and her fever cooled. It was a memory that had the power to arouse her like no other could; her hottest nights with Lucius were what she thought about most, but on the rare occasions she allowed herself to think about the sheer astonishment she'd felt at Mirabai's touch, Narcissa could orgasm with just a few strokes of her finger against her pearl.

"Yes," said Narcissa. Her breath caught in her chest. "I did like it. Very much."

Astoria cast her gaze down on the table and didn't say anything.

It wasn't until they made their way back to the bedroom that Astoria gave Narcissa an inkling of what was in her thoughts. "I've never seen another witch naked the way you've seen me," Astoria said, once she was naked and her thighs spread for Narcissa. "The way you're seeing me right now."

"Hm," said Narcissa.

"We already have such great intimacy between us," Astoria said earnestly, "I wondered if I could see… you. I want to know what one looks like. One that hasn't been cursed."

Narcissa ducked her head. Her heart was racing. Astoria was asking Narcissa to bare herself. She was right in that there was enough intimacy between them the request seemed reasonable… almost inevitable, even. Astoria was not an innocent; she would see Narcissa and guess at the pleasure she took in helping to break the curse.

But Narcissa wanted to see herself reflected in Astoria's eyes, so she said: "Very well."

It was a simple matter to disrobe, but Narcissa took her time. She took off her shoes, then her stockings. Her robes came off next. Astoria never took her eyes off her; her slim fingers played with her folds as she watched, avidly, as Narcissa undressed.

"Your breasts are bigger than mine," said Astoria, fingering her own nipple.

Narcissa smiled at this truth and let the rest of her robes fall. Astoria's gaze immediately fell downward, and fresh heat slashed through Narcissa. She allowed a moment for the younger witch to stare at her before she climbed onto the bed. At the same moment, Astoria scooted downward. It was like a dance, this: Narcissa letting her thighs fall open while Astoria positioned herself between them. Head falling back against the pillow, she imagined what Astoria was looking at.

A featherlight touch along her inner thigh startled her.

"Was I not supposed to touch?" Astoria asked, voice husky.

"You may touch," Narcissa said.

Small touches continued to tease her. Astoria's fingertips glided upward along her thighs, caressed her folds… the barest tip of a finger entered Narcissa's own body… several minutes passed as Astoria explored her. It wasn't until Narcissa felt a long exhale against her inner thigh that Astoria finally touched the little pearl that was the center of Narcissa's pleasure. Her hips canted upward at the feel of the other witch's finger against it.

"I remember it used to feel so good," Astoria murmured.

"It does," Narcissa said. "It does feel good. And it will for you again."

"I used to do this," Astoria said. The moment was as intimate and private as a confession. Then her finger nudged Narcissa back and forth. It was so much more intense than her dream, and Narcissa couldn't help the gasping cry that came out of her mouth. "I could do it for an hour, just stay in bed on a Saturday morning and play with this for an hour." Narcissa could understand why. Little ripples of pleasure spread out from where Astoria touched her, rubbing back and forth with greater and greater assurance.

"You are very good at it," Narcissa told her.

Cerulean blue eyes met hers. There was wonder in them. "It's not so different, then, for every witch?"

"No," said Narcissa. "Wizards… they have to learn the rhythm of a witch's body. Witches… we already know." She swallowed as pleasure continued to travel in stronger and stronger waves. "You already know," she added. She got up on her elbows to watch. It was an erotic sight: Astoria's pale, slim body between her legs. Her silky hair drifted over Narcissa's thighs, and her fingers worked at her center.

A minute later, Narcissa crested.

As she recovered, Astoria climbed up beside her. There was a solemn look in her eyes. "Thank you, Narcissa," she said. "Thank you for allowing me to do that. I had no idea how much it bothered me that I no longer had the ability to give pleasure."

Narcissa traced a finger along Astoria's jaw. "There is no need to thank me," she said. Her body was still suffused with pleasure, and this is what made her lean over and take Astoria's rosy tipped breast in her mouth. The nipple puckered in her mouth as Narcissa suckled on it, enjoying the clean taste of her body.

By the time Narcissa retrieved the instrument from the bedside table and took her place – she stayed on the bed this time – Astoria was flushed and sweaty. The delicate scent that was her arousal filled Narcissa's nostrils and it was with great pleasure that she saw the curse had diminished even further. When the cup of the instrument latched onto where Astoria's pearl was to emerge, Astoria cried out, as softly as a bird.

"Does it feel good now?" Narcissa asked, curious.

"It – it _almost _feels good," Astoria said. Her hips wriggled. "It – reminds of how _good _it used to feel and I can _almost _feel it again. Every time you touch me, it gets stronger."

Narcissa's eyes widened a few moments later when the instrument fell away from Astoria's body. The black spiral was gone now, replaced by a silvery, wispy cocoon. Narcissa touched it – her finger sank into the cocoon as though it were not quite made of anything solid. Astoria cried out and shuddered at her touch.

She had once known a wizard who had been cursed. A great, bleeding gash on his leg wouldn't heal no matter what anyone did. Finally, in a fit of rage, he'd severed his own leg at the root, hoping that would alleviate the pain. It didn't – it made it worse. He could feel the cursed wound but not see it; this had driven the man nearly insane until the Dark Lord had fashioned a new leg for him, a silvery one. Narcissa had seen it, once. It bled silver from the phantom curse.

It very much reminded of this, though Astoria seemed haunted by phantom pleasure…

Narcissa withdrew from the bed to think and prepare for the next session. Her climax had stirred her hunger, and she finished the breakfast she'd abandoned. She ate it standing up, half-hoping Astoria would come out to keep her company and half-hoping she wouldn't. By the time she returned to the bedroom, she wished she hadn't stayed away so long. Astoria was curled up in a small ball, crying into the pillow.

"Astoria?" she said, heart leaping into her throat. A sudden surge of fear that she'd done something wrong – Narcissa was not known for _breaking _curses, after all – took her breath away. "What is the matter?" _What have I done_?

"You shouldn't help me anymore," Astoria sobbed.

"Why not?" Narcissa asked. She sat on the edge of the bed.

"I frightened you," she said. Her head popped up. Her cheeks were flushed and glossy.

"You frightened me?" Narcissa asked blankly.

"Something happened with the instrument, didn't it?" Astoria asked. "I saw that look on your face… You were _frightened_. The curse has made me _hideous_, and I – I can't ask you to try to help me anymore."

"No," said Narcissa. She curved her body around Astoria's and stroked the soft skin of her arms. "No, I wasn't frightened of you. It reminded me of another curse… another time… it did not concern you. It was wrong of me to think those dark thoughts in our sanctuary."

"Our sanctuary," said Astoria. Hope lilted her words.

"Yes, our sanctuary," soothed Narcissa.

But the next two hours did not go as they had prior to this. Astoria was not relaxed and responsive to Narcissa's touch. There was little change in the silvery cocoon and Narcissa feared that their progress would be lost. Narcissa missed the eagerness Astoria had showed, and the desire she could ignite in the younger, cursed witch.

And so, just after lunch, when Astoria closed her legs and rolled over, Narcissa followed her. "No," she said firmly. "No, Astoria. I will not lose the progress you have made because you are needlessly ashamed."

"But I—"

"_No_," said Narcissa.

She tugged at Astoria's hips and when Astoria was once more on her back, Narcissa helped her part her thighs. "Do not be ashamed of this," Narcissa said. Instincts were prodding her that she needed to do something to ease Astoria's fear that she was unsightly. So as soon as she wedged herself between Astoria's thighs, she pressed her lips against her.

"Oh!" Astoria cried out. "Oh! I can feel that!"

Narcissa tasted her. Her tongue flicked out and gathered up all the moisture it could. It surprised Narcissa, how good it tasted. There was a freshness to her taste that made Narcissa moan along with Astoria. Fingers brushed into her hair while Narcissa tongued Astoria's folds, played with them, suckled on them the way she had Astoria's nipples. Then, without even feeling an ounce of fear, Narcissa pressed her tongue against that silvery cocoon.

Astoria let out a loud whimper and her thighs closed around Narcissa's head.

Narcissa suckled as best she could on that cocoon. She could feel a bud inside it, but it kept retreating as though playing a game of hide and seek with her tongue and lips. All the while, Astoria kept up a babbling, running commentary.

When Narcissa finally pulled back, the cocoon had taken on a rosy glow and appeared far more solid. Pride swelled inside her as she realized what she had done.

"Narcissa… that was… it felt so _real_," Astoria said. Her voice trembled. "It felt so very _real_."

"You are almost healed," Narcissa told her.

Blue eyes were wet as they tangled with hers. "You really weren't afraid?"

"I was not afraid," Narcissa said solemnly.

Astoria snuggled next to her and wrapped her body around Narcissa's. "I was worried you were just saying that," she confessed, her face buried in Narcissa's breast. Her other hand came up to stroke a light circle around Narcissa's other nipple. Little shivers of pleasure went through her. "And then you _kissed _me." Wonder suffused her tone. "You _kissed _my curse."

"I did," confirmed Narcissa.

"What was it like?" Astoria asked, suddenly shy.

Narcissa took a deep breath. "Do you want to find out?"

"I… yes," said Astoria. "Oh yes."

There was very little finesse to Astoria's lips on Narcissa. She was hesitant and clumsy. But Narcissa was up against pillows and able to _watch _Astoria licking her. Her eyes were closed and her cheeks had roses blooming in them. That _worshipful _look on her face goaded Narcissa's desire. It didn't matter that the rhythm kept changing, that Astoria didn't know quite what she was doing. Narcissa still climaxed hard enough that it felt, somehow, that she'd _also _experienced the climax Mirabai had given her so many years ago…

When Astoria was once more at her side, Narcissa cupped her face in her hands and kissed her. Their tongues tangled together. Narcissa tasted herself on Astoria's tongue and made a sound low in her throat. "You did beautifully," she whispered to her. "So beautifully."

Their kisses were deep at first, then became lazy, sleepy things. Narcissa summoned a blanket from the sitting room and covered them both with it. Then, wrapped around each other, they napped.

They twined together the rest of the day. Astoria plaited their hair together and exclaimed at how alike they were. There was a different intimacy in the air now… it was almost as though the two were true lovers, unworried about any curse. But Narcissa used the instrument on her. The silvery cocoon flowered open to reveal Astoria's healed pearl… it was the color of a fresh rose bud with just the barest hint of a black smudge.

"It looks like it could be a freckle," Narcissa told her.

"Give me a moment, I've just experienced pleasure like I haven't in years," Astoria murmured. "You _did _it, Narcissa. You… did it."

"No one will think anything of it," said Narcissa. "Draco will not notice such a tiny speck, nor will he ever know it is the remnant of a curse."

At that, Astoria popped up. "Draco?" she asked, as astonished as though she'd never heard the name before.

Narcissa sighed, and pulled her wand closer to her. "Draco," she said, with every ounce of gentleness she possessed. "Draco Malfoy. My son… and your future groom."

"But…" The blue eyes clouded over.

"This was an interlude," Narcissa said. She was echoing words that had been said to her, once, long ago. Narcissa had once thought herself in love with her dormmate. Mirabai's affections were transient, however. "It was a beautiful, precious interlude," Narcissa added, to take away the sting. There was a part of her – the sixteen year old in Narcissa, perhaps – who wanted nothing more than to throw caution and propriety to the wind and keep this witch beside her. They could ward everyone out.

"We can—"

"No, we cannot," Narcissa interrupted. "You have forgotten for the span of a day that you are in love with my son. But you _are_."

Astoria took Narcissa's hands in her own and kissed them. "But I also love his mother," she whispered. Then she ran a finger over Narcissa's wand, which Narcissa kept clenched in her fist. "What happened to that girl who loved you?"

"She did not love me," said Narcissa. "She said much the same words to me as I am saying to you. That it was an interlude and could not last."

"What did you do?" Astoria asked. Her eyes were wide and wet with tears.

Narcissa sighed out a breath. There had been a moment when she'd no longer seen herself reflected in Mirabai's eyes; Narcissa had been unable to reconcile the intimacies they'd had with the indifference she'd then seen. It had been an easy decision to make. There had only been a little over a week's memories to steal from Mirabai. She's stood over Mirabai's bed and unspooled the memories of Narcissa's naked, writhing body from Mirabai's mind. She took the little gasps of pleasure. She took the shy questions Narcissa had asked before she'd given pleasure to Mirabai. There had not been a single repercussion: Mirabai had looked ill for a few days, but then became quite normal.

"I did nothing," said Narcissa.

Astoria did not look like she believed her, so Narcissa conducted a deliberate seduction of the younger witch. By the time Narcissa's mouth had tasted a third orgasm of Astoria's, she was limp and sated and too tired to move, let alone worry about what Narcissa was going to do.

Still, it broke her heart a little to do the same to Astoria. As Astoria had fallen asleep, her eyes had never left Narcissa's face… Narcissa had seen her own self in them. Tears streamed from her own eyes as she sorted through Astoria's most recent memories… Narcissa took everything that had happened in the cottage. _Let her believe that I found a powerful spell that broke her curse without having to live through these intimacies, _Narcissa thought. Her fingers trembled. _Let her forget the instrument that helped us find her pearl. Let her forget everything we shared_.

It was done.

The problem was that Narcissa could not do the same for herself. She kept Astoria's memories of their interlude together. They were protected by the most powerful enchantments Narcissa knew. She viewed them often that first year, especially the first month after Astoria's wedding to Draco. _The Daily Prophet _had reported Narcissa had looked haughty and disapproving – little did they guess that it had hurt Narcissa to watch Astoria marry her son…

The hurt faded, eventually.

It was raining on the morning that Narcissa decided to give the memories back to Astoria.

"I think it's fitting that it's raining," she said.

She addressed the headstone, of course. Astoria had been gone three months. With shaking fingers, Narcissa unstoppered the little bottle in which silvery memories swirled. "It rained the whole time we were in the cottage together. And even that morning when you first told me of your curse. Not the one who took you from Draco – from _us_ – too soon," Narcissa rushed to add. Astoria had died at the age of thirty-seven. Draco was barely forty and he was a widower.

The headstone did not reply, of course. Not for the first time, Narcissa wondered what would have happened if she'd returned those memories to Astoria at any point during her life. Would she have loved her still?

Narcissa looked over her shoulder, then she poured the memories out at the base of the stone. "I do not regret our interlude," she said. Few memories warmed her more. "But I do not regret the marriage you had with my son. You gave us a part of yourself to love, you know. You gave us Scorpius. Had we done what we both wanted that day, there would be no part of you left in this world now. How painful that would be!"

Narcissa waited in the rain, watching the earth absorb the memories. There was nothing left to say, so she remained silent. And then she left.

And in the spring, narcissus bloomed all over Astoria's grave.

HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP

**Author's Note: **_To the three of you who made it this far, thank you for reading! _

_I have been wanting to write an f/f story for quite some time, and for some reason, I have always thought it would be from the POV of Narcissa. So when a friend of mine on the discord sent us a link to a kinky kristmas fest(?), I impulsively and ridiculously leapt on the first prompt that would allow me to choose my own femslash pairing. So then I had to come up with a plot for Narcissa that somehow incorporated a clit pump. Huzzah! Mythymind came up with who she should be paired with (Astoria, obviously), and also he and several of the other members of the Merry Ginny Lovers discord helped me get this from I WANNA WRITE FEMSLASH NOW to what you have just read. It's not perfect, but I had a lot of fun with it, and it honestly gave me hope that I could write an original! _

_So that was Sunday. And this is officially the longest Narcissa/Astoria fic I have ever heard of! _

_I'll be back next week with the final chapter of Peverell. Hope you are well. And if you did end up making it this far… please leave a review. _


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